Christmas Log | The Gift Exchange

[folkscallmewander]

Who: Everyone who signed up for the Secret Santa!
What: Party where everyone can exchange gifts.
When: M11 D4
Where: A conference room at the hotel
Notes & Warnings: Feel free to tag around!

There's a sign at the lobby stating that the winter holiday party for the imports is in one of the back rooms.

Wander convinced the rest of the staff to let him take some leftover bagels and other snack foods from the guest breakfast, and there's a small table in the middle of the room with the food.

Comments

[athousandcurses]

"I would say try a little bit of everything. Kay doesn't seem like the sort of man that would give up his likes easily. Though I am not sure what golf is..." No, Grainne. Don't... don't go down that path like Elle did.

[what_ho_jeeves]

"I say, you don't know what golf is? I thought everyone knew golf."

Bertie now considers it his duty to explain.

"It's this sport, you see, invented by chaps in Scotland, because they have a lot of holes there. The general idea is to take a club and then put a ball on the ground then give the ball a good whack with said club, such that the ball goes flying through the air, ideally towards the green. You want to get the ball in the hole, without falling prey to sandtraps and wayward trees and the like.

"And then afterwards you picnic and drink whiskey and s."

[athousandcurses]

Bertie had the most unusual ability to confuse and confound Grainne with the strangest of things spoken in the most matter-of-fact yet confusing way, and often over-explained. It was not unlike certain authors of very popular visual novels, really.

Still, only one question popped into Grainne's mind. "It sounds very dangerous and thrilling. Is this club like the ones they use in caber tossing?"

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie had never seen a caber tossing, but he didn't want to admit to ignorance and be thought foolish, so he nodded solemnly and replied, "Yes, could be, could be."

[athousandcurses]

Grainne froze for a moment, imagining the giant caber pole being swung like a mace at a small ball on the ground... The image repeated a second time, and then...

She burst out laughing. Not just a ladylike musical note, but a full-throated belly laugh the like of which she hadn't had in... well, a very long time. Certainly before the Holy Grail war.

And... it was a good thing. For a long time after the war's end and coming to the resort, she hadn't thought she would feel laughter like this again.

[what_ho_jeeves]

Bertie didn't think he'd made a joke, but then sometimes his sparkling wit surprised even himself. So he laughed along merrily and enjoyed having put someone in good humour.

[athousandcurses]

Soon enough, Grainne gained control of herself and sighed. "Do you like sports, Bertie? Maybe I could teach you something I learned in my youth. It's not a physical activity, but it still was considered a sport."

[what_ho_jeeves]

"I like the sports that involve less violence, on the whole. Although no Wooster would balk at a battle, I can't say I find running up against other men and smashing together with bone-breaking intensity very leisurely. Rugger and soccer aren't for me. I prefer the sports that don't typically incur serious injury, like cricket and billiards, darts and cards."

[athousandcurses]

"You might like fidchell then. A game of strategy." Grainne certainly has missed playing against others, though she might have to make board and pieces for it herself...

[what_ho_jeeves]

"Fid-chell," Bertie said carefully. "Dashed lot of consonants there. So, how does it work? A strategy game, you say? I am a master at strategy games amongst my peers."

But only because his peers were Barmy Fotheringay Phipps, Tuppy Glossop, and Gussie Fink-Nottle. If there was a perfect word to denote the exact opposite of an intellectual, it would describe they.